


Fantasies from the Heart

by Liara_90



Series: Fourfold [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Damsels in Distress, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Love, Maids, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Team RWBY's relationships deepen, they cautiously explore the world of sexual roleplay. When each member is tasked with devising their own scenarios, though, their partners will gain unique insight into their minds. Smut with a dash of character exploration. White Rose and Bumblebee.</p>
<p>Chapter 1 - Prologue<br/>Chapter 2 - Ruby, Handmaid to Beauty<br/>Chapter 3 - Yang, Detention Class<br/>Chapter 4 - Weiss, One-Night Stand<br/>Chapter 5 - Blake, Damsel-in-Distress</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My inspiration for this most directly came from Doirly_No's Mass Effect fanfiction, particularly Chapters 3 through 5 of The Hero's Spoils of War. But it would also have not been possibly without all the RWBY fanfic writers who showed me that smut and character explorations can be done in the same work. This is my vaingloriously attempt at one.

As surprised as Team RWBY's two sets of couples were to find themselves in relationships - relationships that outlived the fiery passion of a one-night stand or the claustrophobia of a shared domicile - the reality was that Huntsmen and Huntresses formed romantic bonds more readily than anyone was comfortable admitting. This was not, of course, entirely unpredictable, in fact it was almost disturbingly formulaic. Take a bunch of hormonal teenagers, force them to live, work and play together, occasionally make them save each other's live, shake for three-to-six months and _ding_ \- instant romance. Professor Ozpin's more conservatively-minded counterparts in Atlas would be appalled at the personal liberties Beacon's students were permitted, but the old man in the clocktower knew that Hunters were not common soldiers, and that blossoming love could be a very powerful force indeed.

That was not to say that Beacon took an _entirely_ laissez-faire approach to romance. Dust no. Hormonal teenagers in life-or-death struggles forged powerful bonds, but if they were to break up it would be like the splitting of a particle of Dust - death and destruction for miles in every direction. So, over his many, _many_ years as Headmaster of Beacon Academy, Ozpin (and, more recently, Ms. Goodwitch), had developed a series of officially unofficial protocols for encouraging healthy relationships. Most of it was boilerplate stuff slid surreptitiously into lessons and lectures - the importance of communication, the sacrosanctity of consent, etc., etc. Other times, well…

The sixty-two page pamphlet _Hunting Eros: A Huntress' Guide to Sex and Love_ had been slid under the Team RWBY dorm room in quadruplicate. It listed neither author nor publisher, though the glossy pages spoke of a high production value. Its plethora of eye-catching illustrations and plainspoken advice ensured that it would not be easily discarded. And while none of the Huntresses wanted to admit to consulting the mysterious guidebook, they all referenced it more readily than any cared to admit.

Yang, having had the most active sex-and-or-romantic life of the quartet, needed it the least, but the creativity of some of the authors' proposed activities captivated her like no lecture ever had. At the other end of the experience spectrum was the young Ruby Rose, who was smart enough to know how all the pieces fit together but not what exactly they could be used for. For someone whose primary exposure to romance had been in the form of PG-13 movies and Young Adult novels, it was like peering through a telescope into the cosmos for the first time. Blake and Weiss fell somewhere in the middle, the influence of their respective upbringings all too apparent. To ex-White Fang operative Blake Belladonna, love was always something that was bought with liquor and lien, a luxurious indulgence like fast cars and potent drugs. A pair of lilac eyes had opened hers in turn, but finding the confidence to explore the erotic without sullying the romantic was something she secretly thanked the anonymous writers for. But while Blake had been raised to view sexual exchanges with the same insignificance of any commercial transaction, Weiss Schnee had been taught to treat them with the utmost importance, something only ever to be done after the most solemn of ceremonies. Intellectually, Weiss knew that such a view was antiquated, that sex need not be something sequestered to the bedroom of a spouse, but finding a source that affirmed those thoughts with such confident authority had done wonders for her. Pages of printed wisdom had helped her squash fears of impropriety, to give her the fortitude to look in the mirror and not feel like she had diminished herself for acting on the feelings inside her.

So despite how the Huntresses had laughed at the booklets and their advice as they'd first curiously perused the pages, all four copies remained safely within the walls of the RWBY dorm, the dog-eared corners and underlined sentences betraying how they'd been returned to. And, week after week, boundaries were slowly pushed, preferences discovered and discussed, bonds forged and affirmed through exercises of passion and trust. So after enough 'Introductory Activities' had been checked off and crossed out that the Huntresses felt prepared to explore a new set of bedroom antics, they found themselves confronted with a question that said as much about their personalities as any psychologist's prodding would uncover.

__

Exercise 2-5: Write down a scenario you would like you and your partner to roleplay. Describe the role each participant should assume, how they should behave, and how the scenario should unfold. Though be careful to leave room for creativity and spontaneity. Then exchange letters with your partner.

The exercise was simple enough, though it had consumed more hours of thought than any of them would have cared to admit. Yang, for example, knew Blake would look irresistibly sexy in a maid's outfit, her feline ears poking out behind a lacy headpiece, but couldn't figure out how that could plausibly be worked into some fantastical scenario. All she wanted to do was ravage the mental picture she'd created in her head, which at the end of the day wasn't all that different from what she usually did irregardless of Ms. Belladonna's attire. Figuring out some kind of scenario - with rules and pacing and some semblance of dialogue - was a unique challenge for the impulsive brawler. Blake Belladonna, by contrast, could call to mind hundreds of lurid fantasies she'd read about over the years, tales of princesses and barbarians, jailers and prisoners, ninjas and samurai. The casual approach to sex that had been ingrained in her meant she viewed it all as pretty much interchangeable. Figuring out something she distinctively _wanted_ , as opposed to something she just found equitably enjoyable, was a surprisingly difficult problem.

But after much introspection and forethought - and many, _many_ drafts - four sets of scenarios were committed to paper. Sometimes confidently, sometimes slyly, the notes were exchanged, read, considered, and agreed upon. Four stories to act out, four desires to explore, four Huntress whose trust and love would deepen as they came to know another mind…


	2. Ruby, Handmaid to Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby and Weiss act out the Team Leader's fantasy. Maids and makeup.

Ruby Rose's note to Weiss had been written on a repeatedly-folded piece of graph paper, the back of which, as far as Weiss could tell, had been where Ruby had sketched out some conceptualized modifications for Crescent Rose. Her handwriting was actually not as messy as Weiss would have initially guessed - years of drawing diagrams and blueprints had given her Team Leader a remarkably steady hand - but it was impossible to miss the numerous instances where Ruby had modified, erased, or outright struck-through numerous sentences. Even in print the young woman's uncertainty was evident, though that she had overcome it sufficiently to put pencil to paper was something Weiss found quietly endearing.

__

'Weiss Schnee, I ~~want~~ would like you to be ~~a rich~~ an elegant ~~girl~~ lady who is preparing for a night at a ~~fancy party~~ gala. You still need to ~~get dressed~~ change for the evening and haven't gotten dressed or done your makeup ~~or anything.'~~

And so Weiss had begun the evening dressed in what she occasionally wore back at Schnee Manor when her combat dress was unacceptable, a nicely-fitting but indistinct white bow blouse with a knee-length black skirt and matching pantyhose. Apart from Ruby still preparing in the bathroom the RWBY dorm was empty, Blake and Yang having taken up JNPR's invitation to a movie night and sleepover. The suspiciously serendipitous timing of Ms. Valkyrie's offer was something Weiss would investigate at a later date. For now she sat idly on her bed, mindlessly examining her nails. She'd left her hair down, pursuant to Ruby's instructions, and the rarity of being properly dressed without her off-centered ponytail was oddly unsettling her.

'To finish getting ready you need me, your recently-hired maid, Ruby! You let me do your makeup and ~~stuff~~ get you into your dress.'

The bathroom door slid open, and Weiss' eyebrows shot up in defiance of her habitual _sangfroid_. She wasn't the type to toss around words like 'adorkable', but _really_ , was there anything else that could describe the sight before her? Where Ruby had obtained the Atlasian Maid's dress was a mystery, though Weiss wagered she'd added the scarlet-rose trim herself. The skirt of the black dress stopped well above the younger woman's knees, a lacy petticoat peaking out from beneath. Only a sliver of Ruby's mid-thigh was visible, everything else concealed by white stockings with red bows on the front. The two-inch heels Ruby wore were enough to visibly unsteady her, though she did her best to maintain the appearance of a demure housemaid.

"Ms. Schnee," said Ruby, her voice audibly uncertain as she tried to assume the role she'd envisioned for herself. Her fingers clasped the hem of her skirt and she bent her knee in an approximation of a curtsey, right leg sweeping behind the left as she bobbed. Straightening up, she clasped her hands together in front of her, biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation. "You summoned me?"

Weiss had already thought through her own part on Ruby's scenario, and consciously kept her waiting for a few seconds, feigning the indifference so many of the elite projected. She turned and locked eyes with Ruby, watching a smile flash across the girl's face as she did. It took conscious effort for Weiss not to let out a small grin in sympathy.

"I will be attending a concert tonight at the Royal Atlas Conservatory. You will help me prepare," she instructed, returning her gaze to her fingernails. Weiss extended one of her legs with the grace of a ballerina, wiggling the kitten heeled shoe on her foot. "Hurry up and undress me!"

Ruby let out a small _eeeep_ and Weiss wondered if her tone had been harsher than she'd intended, but Ruby seemed happy enough as she scurried to kneel in front of the bed Weiss was seated on. Ruby unfastened the buckled strap on Weiss' shoe and set it aside, waiting a moment until Weiss extended her other leg to repeat the motion. Weiss rose to her feet, pantyhose-clad legs inches from Ruby's face, and stared down in mock puzzlement at her pretend maid.

"What are you waiting for, take off the rest."

Ruby visibly blushed as her hands fumbled for the zipper on Weiss' skirt, fingers trembling with atypical clumsiness. The skirt pooled at Weiss' feet, which the heiress took a step forward to clear, giving Ruby a perfectly unobstructed view of the black panties she was wearing. A moment later Ruby hesitantly began unbuttoning Weiss' blouse, and Weiss struggled to act nonchalant as her lover's fingers brushed against her bosom. Ruby slid the shirt off and neatly folded it, pausing momentarily until Weiss indicated that Ruby was to remove her pantyhose, too. Ruby's face was scarlet now as her fingers hooked beneath the top, Weiss' breath catching in her throat as Ruby's hands slowly slid down her legs, careful not to tear the sheer fabric.

Now clad in nothing but a black lace bra and panties, Weiss gestured to the white evening gown she had laid out on the bed beside her. It was without doubt one of the most fashionable items she owned, provocative without sacrificing elegance, accentuating both her curves and her grace. She had never worn it since her arrival at Beacon - it was far too formal to wear to something as casual as a high school prom - but for the fantasy world Ruby had envisioned them in it was the perfect outfit. Ruby, whether she could verbalize it or not, was drawn to her partner's grace and glamour, the imperious beauty she projected, cold and perfect like a glistening ice sculpture. Ruby knew she would never fit into the beautiful world of aristocrats with the ease of the Schnee Dust Company's heiress, but she longed to catch of glimpse of it nonetheless. So Ruby had elected to play the maid, the most plausible way she could think of to write herself into the fantasies of galas and balls.

Weiss let Ruby take her time sliding her into the dress, listening to the slow breathing of her lover as Ruby tried to avoid the smallest wrinkle, having never so much as seen a dress of such beauty before. Ruby loved beautiful things, Weiss knew, one need only look at Crescent Rose to confirm. While perhaps not as elegant as Weiss' Myrtenaster - which was also an order of magnitude less complicated in design - Crescent Rose showed a diamond cutter's eye for beauty, it was a work of art just as much as any painting or opera. That it was made of a hundred mechanical parts for the purpose of slaying Grimm did nothing to diminish the artistry inherent in its design.

Weiss felt a pleasurable chill run up her spine as Ruby's hands fiddled with the zipper against the bare skin of her back, the younger Huntress zipping the dress together were infinite care so as not to snag or catch. She waited a moment for Ruby to stroll around in front of her, to take in the sight of Weiss in a dress that cost more lien than a professional Huntress made in a month. Were she to stay true to her character Weiss would've snorted derisively at her handmaiden's paralysis, or barked at her to get back to work, but Weiss had enough sense to stretch the fantasy for a few seconds. When Ruby finally blinked her silver-grey eyes Weiss resumed her performance, seating herself and extending a bare leg once more.

Ruby took the cue to resume her duties, hurriedly retrieving the pair of stiletto heels Weiss had set aside. They weren't the heiress' favorite, but they too had a buckled strap, which gave Ruby and excuse to have her hands on Weiss' skin for a little longer. Weiss belatedly cursed herself for not having picked out stockings to go with her dress, the memory of Ruby's hands running up and down her legs still freshly imprinted on her mind.

Weiss grunted in mild approval as Ruby finished with her footwear, before she called attention to the makeup kit beside her. Lipstick, blush, eyeliner, nail polish, every excuse she could come up with for Ruby to fuss over her for a few minutes longer. In perfect honesty she had a few reservations about this part, as Ruby's understanding of cosmetology could charitably be described as 'aspirational', but Ruby unreservedly loved the idea of spoiling her lover as best she could, of doing everything she could think of for the woman of her dreams. For Ruby it was like painting nails at a slumber party again, but this time for a woman who could grace the cover of any fashion magazine in Remnant.

Ruby may have been heavy-handed in her application, makeup never having been a cornerstone of her routine as it had been for the media-hounded Schnee heiress, but in the intimacy of their dorm room Weiss couldn't have cared less. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end in pleasure as Ruby's swept a brush carefully over Weiss' cheeks. She closed her eyes in bliss as her partner ran an ivory comb through her hair, undoing knots with the delicacy of a surgeon, before fastening it off-center with the softest lace ribbon. Weiss felt her heart melt as she watched Ruby apply lipstick to her lips with the utmost deliberation, was warmed by the way Ruby's eyes shone and her mouth smiled as she accentuated her lover's beauty. Were she a real maid Ruby would've been fired eons ago for the almost slothful pace at which she applied the makeup, but Weiss had no desire to chastise the woman for the loving care she was pouring on her.

Seated in a chair at the dorm room's desk, Weiss eyed the fresh coat of nail polish Ruby had spent the last eternity applying to her. She had given curt notes of approval every time Ruby had held up a mirror and asked if Weiss approved of her maid's job - too positive and it would crack the fantasy, too negative and Ruby would feel genuinely dismayed at the quality of her handiwork - but the young woman really had done her nails perfectly. Given her half-sister's minimalist makeup routine Weiss doubted that Ruby had learned that from her, so… a puzzle for another day.

Ruby finished putting away the makeup kit, before scurrying in front of her mistress again. Weiss had one leg crossed over the other, the high slit of the dress giving Ruby's eyes something to surreptitiously dart down to, and was resting her arms on the armrests while the coat dried on her nails.

"Is there anything else you would like, my lady?" asked Ruby, more comfortable in her character as she grew familiar with the performance. She bit her lower lip in unspoken anticipation.

 _'When you're done with your makeup ~~and everything~~ ,'_ Weiss re-read Ruby's note in her mind, _'you decide you want something sexy from your maid before you head out.'_

"It will be at least twenty minutes before this dries," said Weiss, resuming her tone of aloof superiority. At least Ruby's skin wasn't pressed against hers anywhere at the moment. Keeping character was damn-near impossible then. "You will find entertainment for me until I am ready to depart."

A look of puzzlement played across Ruby's face, quite adorably, and she spoke her next sentence like she would in casual conversation, forgetting the submissive tone she'd used to emphasize her subservient role. "You want, like, a book or something?" One of Ruby's eyebrows cocked improbably high, and Weiss almost snorted in amusement.

Weiss uncrossed her legs, gesturing with her head to the space between her thighs. "I would find it more helpful if you would alleviate me of any distractions before I head out for tonight's event," said the heiress, trying to keep her tone as ladylike as possible. "You know I am most appreciative of servants who make themselves useful."

Ruby needed little more prompting to fall to her knees at Weiss' feet, her breathing growing heavy as she fumbled with the folds of the dress. Weiss would've advised Ruby to grab a pillow before starting, but once the girl's hands moved up her thighs there was no way in hell she'd say anything to slow her down.

Ruby's fingers moved in deliberate circles around Weiss' inner thigh, making sure she hadn't overstepped her boundaries. The dress hampered her maneuverability somewhat, but Ruby would never have dared remove it. Weiss, no longer capable of expressing her thoughts in a way befitting her character, let out a wordless groan of pleasure as the heat blossomed within her.

After several minutes of massage Ruby grew confident enough to move inward, her fingers stroking in soft but firm patterns over Weiss' panties, her folds easily traced through the thin fabric. In their time spent intimate together Weiss almost always removed her own clothes, for reasons Ruby never thought to question, and she suddenly found herself uncertain as to how to proceed.

Weiss answered that for her. "Take… take them off," she groaned, and Ruby hastened to comply, speedily sliding the lingerie off and letting her fingers press against Weiss directly. Ruby was now immensely grateful that she had decided against adding gloves to her ensemble. The warmth of Weiss against her, the wetness of her excitement, was not something Ruby would've ever wanted masked by another layer of fabric.

"Is this good?" asked Ruby, with her typical uncertainty, as she began gently pushing inside Weiss, carefully-clipped nails brushing against the inside of the heiress' folds. Ruby stared up at her partner expectantly, though Weiss was lost to the sensations coursing through her body, head tilted back and eyes pressed shut. Her chest rose high with every breath she took as Ruby's digits slid in and out, back and forth, still slowly and deliberately, as if she were handling some volatile chemical. "My lady?"

"Oh _yes_ , yes girl," breathed Weiss as Ruby's knuckle pressed against her clitoris, one hand massaging the outer folds while the other slid cautiously between them. "You…. use your mouth," instructed Weiss, the last bits of her composure crumbling into dust.

Ruby smiled at that, as she always did when she felt wanted, felt desired. Nestling her head inside the dress was more awkward an affair than she would've cared for, but the sight, the smell, the _feel_ of Weiss made it all worth it. She licked tentatively at first, the careful strokes of painter, and felt Weiss' shudder reverberate through the heiress' body. Within a minute she had moved on to sucking, and some minutes later she remembered to keep using her hands and fingers, stimulating practically every inch of the heiress's crotch. Her tongue slid in and out, brushing effortlessly across Weiss' pussy, while her fingers pressed and kneaded, gently tracing every contour and outline, adding pressure as needed.

Ruby was far too inexperienced to consciously draw out a sexual experience, could not have planned to tease Weiss as she had. But the soft strokes of her fingers and tongue had brought Weiss so close to the edge so many times, building up again and again to a release that had been growing since the maid had first set hands on her. With an inarticulate moan Weiss wrapped her legs around Ruby's head, her hands grasping at black-red hair, her hips grinding against her lover's face. It was crass and desperate, but neither woman gave a damn as the added pressure brought Weiss to climax, her aromatic juices smeared against Ruby's face as waves of pleasure cascaded through her.

Some time later (which of them could've possibly kept track of the passing minutes?) Weiss' legs fell back to her sides, the heiress sitting up with evident struggle. Ruby extricated herself as delicately as she could, that brilliant grin of hers undercutting her feigned stoic approach to duty. The maid's face was still flush with arousal, and one hand pressed against her hood through the fabric of her skirt and petticoat before she remembered her role and clasped them in her lap once more.

"Was that satisfactory, my lady?" asked Ruby, perhaps a little to chipper (like Weiss cared). Ruby's left leg was bouncing slightly, a tell of her excitement, as was the way her eyes darted and her tongue licked her lips.

"You did…. a very good job," said Weiss, her compliment causing Ruby to positively beam. She glanced at her nails again, trying to regain her sense of character, unsurprised at the many smudges. She rose from her chair with as much elegance and composure as she could muster, and Ruby scurried to position herself beside her. "And now…."

 _'And now we find the problem with your story,'_ mused Weiss, watching as Ruby unconsciously fidgeted with her uniform's lacy apron. _'You didn't write an ending for yourself, did you?'_ And sure enough, Ruby's fantasy script had included no resolution for her own character. Several thoughts flittered through Weiss' head. Had Ruby's exclusion of her own character been accidental, an oversight in her hastily-scrawled note? Had she been too self-conscious to put her most explicit desires in writing, even (or especially?) to her lover? Did Ruby, Weiss wondered, _enjoy_ not getting anything, get some kind of deviant pleasure from being denied? Or did she just want Weiss to leave the room so she could do the job herself? Weiss' classmates had supplied her with many tales of partners who, for one reason or another, couldn't match what they could do to themselves.

"Hmmm," said Weiss, running a finger down Ruby's cheek as the thoughts played through her head, a faint slickness still quite detectable. She could practically see Ruby stifling a pleasured whimper, so primed was the girl. "I wonder if I should do anything to you before I leave?"

"If…. if you'd like," answered Ruby, as Weiss' finger slid down to bare skin of her chest that the maid's dress didn't cover. "Though it's not my place to ask."

"Of course it's not," replied Weiss with mock sternness, gladdened that Ruby evidently wanted her in turn. "But I trust a humble maid would be properly appreciative of anything done on her behalf?"

"Y-yes," whimpered Ruby, as Weiss' hand cupped her cheek. "Yes, my lady."

"Good." Weiss' hand fell unceremoniously to her side. She gestured to the chair. "Put your hands on the seat."

Ruby complied with such speed only the absence of rose petals told Weiss she hadn't activated her Semblance. The position was not particularly dignified, as Ruby's skirt and petticoat now rode high up, giving Weiss an unobstructed view of her ass. Weiss slid up behind her maid, resting one hand on Ruby's ass cheek for a few seconds. Truth be told this was far from an ideal position to reciprocate, but Weiss could hardly pretend to be a lady of high society while on her knees and eating her maid out.

Her other hand slid down Ruby's buttocks until it found the folds of her pussy, already wet and parted with excitement. Weiss tapped Ruby's foot with her own. "Spread these," she demanded, and Ruby shuffled her feet apart, giving Weiss even greater access. Ruby's fingers curled around the edges of the seat as Weiss began sliding back and forth across her pussy with the palm of her hand, cupping with just enough pressure to make Ruby groan.

"How honored you must be, to have a Schnee take the time to pleasure one of her maids. Do you realize how lucky you are?"

"I'm so… so lucky," Ruby managed to grunt out, though her tone was more loving than lusting, almost breaking the forth wall of their fantasy. Weiss opted against mercilessly teasing Ruby, as in-character as that might have been for a bored aristocrat, and slid two fingers into Ruby without a trace of resistance. Weiss was more direct and more forceful with Ruby than her partner had been to her, but her graceful dominance was a perfect fit for the submissive persona Ruby had imagined for herself. The angle they found themselves in was not wholly practical, as Weiss had to awkwardly position her free hand to properly stimulate Ruby's clitoris. Had Ruby been able to see the way Weiss was awkwardly half-crouched over her it might have shattered the illusion irreparably. Thankfully, however, all the girl could see was the wooden seat of her chair, not that her eyes were open. She moaned as Weiss built up speed and pressure, the heiress sliding one leg along Ruby's while her hands tended to the woman's pussy.

Ruby let out a short, sharp moan as she orgasmed, knees buckling as her brain was flooded with a sense of pleasure. Ruby dropped like a brick to her knees, causing Weiss' fingers to slide out with a _squick_ , her face pressed against the chair's seat.

Deciding the charade was up, Weiss knelt beside the girl who owned her heart and ran her fingers through her hair, transfixed by the expression of serene contentment plastered across Ruby's face. As if waking from a deep sleep Ruby slowly returned to full consciousness, eyelids batting. Weiss traced a finger over Ruby's cheek, drawing out a smile with the touch, before Ruby righted herself. They sat mere inches from one another, on the floor of dorm room, Ruby in her maid's costume and Weiss in her dress.

"Thank… thank you for doing that with me," said Ruby, wrapping her arms around Weiss' neck and pulling in her girlfriend for a kiss. Their lips pressed against each other forcefully, and parted with a satisfying smack.

"It was my pleasure," replied Weiss, the smile across her own face for once not sardonic or wry, forced or feigned, but earnest and unreserved. Very few souls in Remnant had ever seen Weiss smile like that before, and Ruby was one of the very lucky few. Weiss placed a series of kisses along her girlfriend's face, each kiss precise and deliberate, sending tingles up Ruby's spine. _Kiss._ "Though next time." _Kiss._ "You have to write." _Kiss-kiss-kiss._ "What you want done to you." _Kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss._

Ruby still blushed, and made some indistinct noises of affirmation, but Weiss loved her dolt all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have a problem with alliteration.


	3. Yang - Schoolgirl in Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang Xiao Long ends up in Ms. Belladonna's detention class.

Blake loitered momentarily at the end of the hallway, glancing surreptitiously about for any lingering students (or worse, teachers). Unsurprisingly, the place was deserted. Ostensibly for the purpose of 'Group Study', Blake had reserved a small classroom in one of Beacon Academy's most remote corners, on a Friday evening. Confirming that, yes, everyone had somewhere better to be on a Friday night, Blake swung the door open and slipped inside.

Yang.

Because of course Yang couldn't have lived out her fantasies in something as mundane as their dorm room, or even a hotel. No, she needed to have the real thing, with all the risks and thrills that entailed. Blake could have smiled (but didn't) as she saw a head of blonde hair whip 'round as the door slammed shut behind her, the sound of the small lock clicking into place echoing in the empty classroom. Yang, still dressed in her Beacon school uniform, was all wide eyes and excitement, the pounding of her heartbeat almost audible to Blake's ears. Yang had taken the time to write 'DETENTION CLASS' in big letters on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom, but had otherwise done little setup.

"Eyes forward, Ms. Xiao Long," Blake chastised, her tone sharp and cold. Yang hurriedly refocused on her desk, scrawling something out by longhand. Blake strolled to the front of the classroom, the sound of her heels echoing with every step. Blake's outfit, at least, was nothing particularly exotic. The second year of classes came with a deluge of 'career development days' and 'workplace tours', and Professor Goodwitch had insisted they invest in some form of business attire. One painful shopping expedition later, Blake had come home with a knee-length black pencil skirt with a satin blouse she'd tucked in, along with a pair of heels which accentuated her already lithe legs. Even Weiss had confessed that she was stunned with the refined look Blake could pull off.

Of the four of them, Yang was perhaps worst suited to roleplay. Despite a storied sexual history her tastes ran remarkably vanilla. For her sex was an experience of the body, touches and scents and tastes, not some complicated mental exercise. While her first encounter with a strap-on meant Yang (now) knew better than to say 'it doesn't hurt to try', she was still open to pretty much anything. And given how well that book had worked for her so far, she figured it was worth a shot.

Coming up with a scenario, though, had been no small task. She couldn't trust herself to stick to a character for long, so any kind of complex roleplay was out. On one hand, she liked the idea of seducing Blake, of being the girl to rock her world, of chasing her down and claiming her. She'd considered playing a stripper and having Blake be a downtrodden patron who had the time of her life when the dancer fell for her. But they didn't have a pole or anything similar on-hand, and given the tidbits of information Blake had dropped about her past Yang decided against anything that could've been reminiscent of exploitation. Several other scenarios had been junked for that reason. While Yang might've found the idea of Police Officer Blake arresting her for soliciting (only to be convinced to let her off with a warning after a _very_ passionate performance by Yang) incredibly arousing, she didn't want to accidentally strike too close to home with anything.

So she'd gone back to the drawing board, mentally and in one case literally. Like Weiss, Blake could carry herself with grace and refinement if the need arose, could stifle her emotions and put on a mask of icy scorn. While it was never particularly beneficial to her when she pointed it out, Yang found Blake unbelievably hot when she was annoyed. The way she telegraphed disdain with her eyes, the cute scowl her mouth curled into, the way her eyebrows furled and nostrils flared. That was something she didn't mind being on the receiving end of…

Blake closed the distance between her and Yang in a few long strides, the blonde keeping her attention conspicuously focused on the paper she was writing on beneath her. "Stop," Blake instructed in a crisp tone, and Yang practically slammed the pencil down on the desk.

Blake lifted the paper from the desk and furled her brow as she read it, Yang's sloppy handwriting cascading down line after line. These were most definitely _not_ the lines she had instructed Yang to write as the first phase of her punishment.

_'….I will not call Ms. Belladonna sexy in class. I will not draw attention to her beautifully long legs, her perfectly-proportioned breasts, or her INCREDIBLY sexy ass. I will not point out the bellabooty to…'_

"Stand in the corner, Ms. Xiao Long," instructed Blake, her tone leaving no room for argument. She avoided glancing up at Yang, lest the sight of her partner's excitement cause her to break character in turn. "Put your hands on your head. And straighten your back."

Yang hastily complied, fingers lacing together through strands of golden blonde hair, her perfect posture only calling attention to her figure. Yang felt exposed, though, which was pretty much the point, the feeling of being at the mercy of her partner's cold wrath causing her chest to rise and fall excitedly.

"This was not the phrase I had instructed you to write out," Blake began, stepping close behind Yang so she was at most an arm's length away. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"I, uh, I got distracted?" offered Yang, fidgeting nervously. She tried glancing over her shoulder at Blake, only to feel a slap against her ass as she did. Over the fabric of her red tartan skirt the blow of the ruler barely stung, but sent shivers of excitement through the blonde's body nonetheless.

"Do you often get distracted in class, Miss Xiao Long?" asked Blake. Then she completely ruined Yang's hopes of offering a semi-coherent answer, letting one hand come to rest on the blonde's ass. Yang's hands were still resting on her head, and she found herself in the most unusual situation of being touched without being able to touch back. Yang loved to hug, to wrestle, to cuddle, anything where two bodies pressed together. But her current predicament was…tantalizing. Blake's hand moved past the hem of her skirt to the stripe of exposed thigh above her uniform stockings, causing Yang to practically whimper.

"I…I….I just think that…" The hand slid underneath her skirt and began caressing her ass. Before Yang's eyelids could press together in pleasure, though, the hand slapped her cheeks, eliciting a small yelp.

"If you cannot get a handle on such deviant thoughts then I will have to correct your behavior myself," said Blake, strolling away from Yang. The blonde was left staring at the wall for a few seconds, her body already screaming in arousal, while Blake let her sweat for a few moments more.

"Bend over the desk," instructed Blake, gesturing to the large wooden table normally reserved for instructors. 'Who must never, _ever_ find out what we're about to do with it.' Yang practically sprinted into position, every scrap of skin on her body telegraphing her arousal. Yang pressed herself facedown on the desk, shivering in arousal as Blake hitched her skirt up, her exposed skin feeling the cool air of the classroom.

"Miss Xiao Long, I hardly believe those panties conform to the uniform dress code," chided Blake, glaring derisively at the black-and-yellow striped undergarments Yang had acquired from Dust knew where. Yang didn't know how to respond, if at all, so she stayed silent. Blake supplied the answer for her: "Take them off, now." Yang tried to stand up, only for one of Blake's firm hands to press her back down on the desk, a forceful push that made Yang let out a moan of approval. She fumbled to remove her panties while remaining face-down on the desk, awkwardly groping around with her hands and shaking her legs to get them down to her ankles, where she could step out of them. With her skirt flipped up she was now bare below the waist, presented and displayed for Blake's sadistic enjoyment.

If there was a Heaven, it damn well better feel like this.

The wooden ruler came to rest on Yang's exposed buttocks. "You will receive twenty strokes as a punishment, Miss Xiao Long. You will count every stroke, and thank me each time. Do you understand?"

"Yup," said Yang, playfully wriggling her butt. Her toes curled in anticipation as Blake drew the ruler back.

_Smack._

"One," breathed Yang, the blow reverberating pleasurably through her. Blake paused, until Yang belatedly remembered to add, "Thank you. Thank you, ma'am."

"Good," said Blake, repositioning the ruler.

_Smack._

"Two, thank you, ma'am," counted Yang. _Smack._ "Three, thank you, ma'am."

Without relying on her Aura to shield or heal her, Yang's ass cheeks grew more sensitive with each strike, reddening beneath Blake's weaponized ruler. While Blake and Yang had each (well, mostly Yang, to be honest) slapped each other's asses over the course of bedroom playfulness, the experience of being _spanked_ was a whole other thing.

_Smack. Smack._

Each blow stung, but the pain did nothing to diminish the arousal blossoming between Yang's legs. More than the feel of wood against skin, the idea that this was _Blake_ doing it to her, that her quiet Faunus lover had taken such control of her… that was hot. Undeniably, unimaginably so.

_Smack._ "Twenty, thank you, ma'am," groaned Yang, as the set was finished. She couldn't see it, but Blake was mildly disappointed, having hoped the blonde would squirm more when faced with her disciplinary measures. But Yang was tough, probably as tough as Blake herself, and as unrestrained as the strokes had been they had barely discomforted her.

Which, of course, wouldn't stand.

Blake stood beside Yang, one hand tracing the red stripes she'd imprinted on Yang's ass. With a passing glance she could see just how excited Yang was, how ready the blonde was for Blake to take this scenario to its natural conclusion.

…But - Blake had to admit - spanking Yang was fun…

"Hold this in your mouth," instructed Blake, positioning the ruler in front of Yang's face. Yang awkwardly bit down on the implement, the taste of wood creeping into her mouth. "If it falls out there will be hell to pay." There was no fire or menace in Blake's voice, only cold promise.

Returning to her partner's ass, Blake drew a hand back and slapped a cheek, hard. The orgasmic moan that escaped Yang's mouth almost caused the blonde to drop the ruler clenched between her teeth. A smile crept across Blake's face. Standing perpendicular to Yang, she planted one hand atop her partner's back, applying enough pressure that Yang knew she was being pressed against the desk. She drew a hand back and repeated the motion, again and again. Each fleshy impact reverberated up Blake's arm, and the sting on Yang's ass was so much more pleasurable when it came from a warm hand instead of ruler.

_Slap. Slap. Slap._

Blake watched as her girlfriend's ass cheeks jiggled with every strike, as the skin reddened more and more with each impact. Blake had lost count long ago but now Yang was properly squirming, each slap straddling the knife's edge between pain and pleasure. The brawler's hands reached blindly for something to grab onto, then balled into fists. Just as the first tears were beginning to pool in her eyes, Yang let out a moan of the utmost decadence as Blake slid two fingers against her pussy.

Blake had transitioned from spanking to fucking without a word of warning, not that Yang was clear-headed enough to complain (nor would she have otherwise). "Keep the ruler in your mouth," ordered Blake, as her fingers pressed inwards. She knew how her partner liked things - hard and fast, unsurprisingly - and applied more pressure with every second. Blake positioned herself squarely behind Yang, using her feet to kick the blonde's legs further apart, only the sturdiness of the desk keeping her upright. One of Blake's hands ran freely across Yang's thighs, before it joined up at her crotch. Three fingers slipped between Yang's folds while her other hand massaged Yang's clit, stroking and pushing with equal ease.

Somewhere between her first and second orgasms the ruler fell from Yang's mouth, though neither noticed nor cared. Blake's name was on Yang's lips whenever she had enough presence of mind to speak, which was admittedly rather infrequently. A second orgasm swelled and climaxed within Yang, which Blake drew out as long as she could with elongated strokes along her folds, before the blonde's strength left her entirely.

Intelligent thought finally returned to Yang's mind as she heaved herself off the desk with a shove, spinning round to face the faunus behind her. Blake tried to maintain a mildly irate expression, in keeping with her character, but Yang was having none of it.

"That….was… _awesome,_ " she breathed, wrapping her arms around Blake's and planting a patter of kisses along her neck.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," replied Blake, as demurely as she could, as her whole torso was warmed by Yang's staccato kisses. Yang's hands drifted south to Blake's skirted butt, wrinkling the fabric as she grabbed handfuls of ass. "Do you want to head back to the dorm?" she asked, as Yang's lips began making their way towards what little bare skin her blouse revealed.

"Not on your life," purred Yang, her voice almost predatory as her hands slipped underneath Blake's skirt, fingers moving up confidently.

"Let's get a bed," whispered Blake, as she felt herself moisten.

With a devilish grin, Yang swept Blake off her feet in one graceful motion, only to drop her a moment later on the long wooden desk the blonde had been bent over minutes prior. "Looks like this will have to do," said Yang with a laugh. Blake was too aroused to protest as Yang yanked off her heels and skirt with inelegant haste, fingers rapidly working Blake into a frenzy on the tabletop.

Once she was confident that her girlfriend wouldn't be putting up any further futile resistance, Yang carefully slid the faunus girl's body forward so her hips were resting right at the edge. The desk was of just the right that if Yang knelt in front of it her head would poke over the edge, which was right where she wanted it to be. She guided Blake's legs onto either of her shoulders before moving her tongue up either thigh. From personal experience Yang knew she risked a crick in her neck if she held this position for too long, but she'd confidently wager Blake wasn't going to be holding out on her.

Blake moaned as Yang's lips brushed against her pussy, fingers and tongue working harmoniously together. "Oh Yang, oh, Dust, Yang," she groaned, the words sounding so sensuous in Yang's ears that she pushed harder and faster. 

"Yang…Yang…. _Yang!_ "

Blake's back arched as Yang slid in a second finger, her whole body violently shuddering as the climax coursed through her. Yang remained where she knelt, wondering idly if she smelled as good to Blake as Blake did to her, until the faunus' hips dropped back to the desk, her hands lying limply at her sides.

With a small chuckle, Yang slid out from under Blake, pushing the girl back a bit so her legs again rested fully on the desk. Her girlfriend's eyes were still closed when she laid down beside her, deftly sliding one arm beneath her neck and half-rolling her girlfriend atop her. Blake groaned in approval as Yang gently played with one of her feline ears, finger tracing the erogenous zone where ear met skull.

In time, she softly began to purr, an unconscious reflex from her faunus blood, a deep rumbling in her chest that reverberated through Yang. She only did it when she was entirely satisfied and felt completely safe, when she could comfortably tune out the world and its troubles.

Yang sighed contently as Blake drifted in that hazy space, neither fully awake nor asleep, as if hypnotized by the rise and fall of the blonde's chest with each breath. Yang couldn't move without risking shattering the spell, but that was fine.

They had the room for another hour, at least.


	4. Weiss - One Night Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby drops into a bar in Vale and finds are girl to spend the night with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying these so far! Any and all feedback is appreciated. Really interested to see if my interpretation is similar to other readers, of y'all have different ideas of what each Huntress would have written down.

Of all the fantasies the RWBY roommates felt confident enough to express, Weiss' was perhaps the most surprising. Not surprising like an invitation-to-an-orgy surprising, or naked mud wrestling or cross-dressing or any of a myriad of theoretical activities, but just…. _huh._

It gave Ruby Rose something to think about, that was undeniable. It'd have been something to _talk_ about, too, had her white rose not explicitly forbidden that. So she ended up here, outside a trendy bar in Vale's entertainment district, desperately wishing a Grimm attack or something would give her a much less scary problem to deal with.

_'Dear Ruby,'_ Weiss' letter had begun, scrawled out in elegant cursive on the kind of nice paper you bought in special stores. _'I would like you to meet me at Club Errera this Friday in southern Vale. I will be at the bar. You do not know me, and offer to buy me a drink, and then to dance. After we leave you invite me back to your place where we make love.'_

Ruby had almost wanted to protest, to claim that Weiss' scenario was not a fantasy but simply a good night out, but as Friday drew closer and closer she came to see her Princess' side of things. Sure, they went on dates all the time, but not _those_ kind of dates. They went to scenic outcrops, or darted between clothing stores, or bitched about school over cappuccinos and hot chocolate, but not…. whatever Weiss was thinking of.

In her sheltered life Weiss had never dared to slip out to a club and find a one-night stand, even the idea of going alone to a bar struck her as incredibly risqué. Ruby agreed with that assessment, though the thought that Weiss could ever suffer some kind of social anxiety was one she was still wrapping her head around.

Her own wardrobe being almost painfully barren, Ruby had borrowed a little black dress from Nora and slipped once more into her lady stilts, the chill air of autumn nipping at her bare skin as she made her way through Vale. Yang, Blake and Nora had all come up with theories as to what exactly Weiss wanted to do with Ruby, their own imaginations far more fantastical than Weiss' own.

Ruby made it one step in the door before a bouncer asked for her ID. Ruby fidgeted with her jacket, eyes scanning the packed bar for a bob of white hair while she handed over her Beacon Academy student card. The bouncer paused for a moment, then wordlessly handed it back to her, allowing Ruby to breathe again. While technically underage, it was an unwritten rule that nobody gave a hassle to Hunters and Huntresses, even if they were still in training. Anyone who was mature enough to risk their life fighting Grimm monstrosities was old enough for a drink.

Ruby spotted her girlfriend a few seconds later and almost called out to her, barely remember her role in time. She pressed her back against a nearby wall and eyed her target through the throngs of drinkers, slowing her breathing as if lining up a shot. Weiss was wearing a gray silk blouse and a pair of jeans that probably cost more than Ruby's wardrobe put together, lazily sipping a martini while some bloke in a blazer droned endlessly on to her. Whatever Weiss' expression was, it was not fascination.

Spotting a small gap on the other side of Weiss, Ruby strolled over with as much casualness as she could muster, ordering the cheapest, weakest beer she knew. This was not the night to test her habitual teetotalism. Weiss almost didn't notice her for a moment, so engrossed in ignoring the other man's conversation that she was visibly startled when she caught sight of the woman beside her. Ruby did her absolute best to play it cool, sipping at the bottle in her hands in lieu of speaking.

_"You're late,"_ half-hissed, half-pleaded Weiss, gesturing furiously to the dude still blabbering on behind her. Ruby carefully finished her sip, the taste crass in her mouth, before setting it neatly on one of the coasters. She _was_ late, having gotten turned about in the District's unfamiliar streets, but she did her best to keep from blurting out a messy apology.

"That's funny….I didn't think there was anyone waiting for me," said Ruby, doing her best to mimic that tone of nonchalance that Blake or Ren could so effortlessly exude. Weiss' brow furled momentarily, before she remembered the context for their meeting and returned to her martini.

"So…. are you from around here?" Ruby asked, parroting what she could remember from TV commercials and the set-up to jokes. The way she fidgeted with the neck of the bottle was so cute it almost made Weiss melt then and there. Then a drunk bumped into her from behind, and the moment was ruined.

"I just moved here from Atlas, actually," Weiss replied, effecting a soft accent almost without thinking. "I had to move to Vale for business."

"A lot nicer down here without all the snow, eh?"

"You learn to get used to the cold," Weiss replied, in a tone that Ruby couldn't place.

"Hey lady, are we talked here, or what?" grumbled the bloke on Weiss' other side, having finally noticed the shift in her attention.

"We're done. Thanks for the drink," said Weiss with a dismissive wave, a gesture any aristocrat worth her weight had mastered by childhood. The man sputtered for a moment, as if stupefied, then planted a hand on Weiss' shoulder as she was turning back to Ruby.

"Come on, babe, let me show you some stuff. I got this brand-spanking-new waterbed that I-"

"Are you hard of hearing or just a complete moron? Take a hike," Weiss repeated, shaking herself free of his grip.

"Fucking dyke bitch," the man muttered, downing the rest of his bottle with a swig. "Whole goddam world is-"

Whatever he was about to say, the drunken tirade was cut short by a swift knee to the crotch. He toppled to the floor, writhing in pain, as Weiss spun in her seat to face Ruby, who was taking another cautious sip of her beer, eyes wide in mock innocence. No one in the crowded bar noticed a few rose petals drifting to the floor.

They sat in silence for a few moments as Weiss' harasser limped off into the night, Weiss finishing the last of her martini. She flagged down the bartender and gestured for two of the same.

"It's the least I can do," said Weiss, sliding a vibrant green drink across to Ruby. "You'll like it better than whatever that _grog_ you're drinking is."

"Thanks," said Ruby with a coy smile, setting aside her scarcely-touched bottle and picking up the aggressively girly drink. The fruity flavor practically masked the taste of alcohol altogether, much to Ruby's approval.

They sat in amicable silence for some time, fiddling with glasses and coyly making eye contact. It was a little strange, Ruby thought to herself, the same but still brand new. She idly wondered how their lives would've unfolded if this was how they'd met, in a cramped bar with a couple of drinks inside them, rather than covered in Dust in the courtyard of Beacon. Even knowing this was all pretend, Ruby dreaded asking Weiss to the dance floor, the fear of eliciting anger or scorn or contempt hanging over her.

In time, a trendy dance mix came screaming out of the bar's speakers as a dance floor seemed to morph into existence. It was an electro remix of one of the Achieve Men's less shitty songs, which Weiss only recognized due to Yang's obsession with them.

"You know this song?" asked Weiss, breaking the silence as she spotted Ruby's foot tapping to the pulse-pounding beat.

"Um, yeah, it's 'Tease It', right? Or some cover it?"

"Come on, I owe you a dance," said Weiss, acting as coquettishly as she could as she took Ruby by the hand.

"Wait, Weiss, wait-wait-wait-wait," pleaded Ruby as she glanced mournfully back at her bar stool, but her merciless Princess dragged her to the middle of the dance floor, elbowing out a space between the soused and the sloshed.

Neither knew how to dance to this kind of music, of course, but they had enough alcohol in them to have fun anyways. Not like there was much dancing to this kind of music, just try to wave your arms and shake your hips and feel the music run through you. Ruby stumbled in her heels as she tried to mimic the moves of nearby dancers, but soon gave up and just bobbed and weaved, getting a tingly buzz every time her bare skin brushed against Weiss.

Had a classmate from Beacon been in that bar tonight they may have spotted the blurry figures shaking and rubbing through the night; never once would anyone have thought they saw heiress Weiss Schnee or hyper-introvert Ruby Rose. Just two girls getting more and more into each other as the night progressed, clasp hands and brushed legs growing into passionate kisses and wandering hands, bright colors and loud noises filling a space without words.

Feet aching and thighs screaming, Ruby eventually managed to move to the next act of their play. She yanked Weiss off the dance floor, pushing her against a wall where they exchanged sloppy kisses. This was Weiss like Ruby had never seen her before - happy, almost giddy at losing herself in the crowd, the music, the moment. She'd let her hair down, figuratively and literally, her snow-white mane a tangled mess. Her skin was flush, her breathing labored, and to Ruby Rose she'd never looked sexier in her life.

"So," said Ruby, managing to get a word out when her lips weren't otherwise preoccupied. "How about I take you back to my place."

_"Hmmmm,"_ groaned Weiss affirmatively, as Ruby squeezed her ass through designer denim. "You have your own place?"

"I share it with a few other people, but they're cool," replied Ruby, moving her hands up to Weiss' sides. "'sides, they're out tonight anyways." Doing something in the Training Room that she had absolutely **zero** desire to speculate on.

"I don't normally go home with people I've just met," teased Weiss, playfully toying with Ruby's short bangs.

"You don't?"

"Hmm, nope. I'm a lady of noble blood, you know."

"Could've fooled me," teased Ruby in return, eliciting a half-hearted scowl. She wrapped her arms around Weiss', softly grinding against her without thinking. "But sometimes it's nice to mix with the masses, eh?"

"Perhaps," said Weiss, though there was no conviction to her feigned ambivalence.

The trip back to Beacon was longer than either would've liked, even if they would only remember it as a hazy blur of stolen kisses and scouting hands. They tumbled into their dorm room, practically falling atop one another as they scrambled to slip out of shirts and dresses.

Weiss came out on top as the two tumbled into her lower bunk, one hand sliding up Ruby's thigh and pushing into her pussy as their faces bounced off one another. Hours of foreplay - dancing and touching and kissing and flirting - had worked Ruby up into a state of almost frenzied excitement, and her mouth fell away from Weiss' as the world blurred out of focus. Her hands blindly groped for Weiss' naked form as her girlfriend's fingers darted into her, having long since found the spots Ruby found most pleasurable. Her knuckle kneaded Ruby's clit while her free took a gambol across her partner's chest, enjoying unfettered access to her breasts while Ruby was too distracted to be self-conscious.

Ruby didn't make a lot of noise when she reached her point of release, only the gradual slowing of her body's movements giving Weiss a cue to withdraw. Before she could so much as shuffle she heard Ruby dozing faintly beneath her, the last reserves of her strength having apparently gone out with her orgasm. The alcohol was probably taking an effect on her, too, Weiss considered, as Ruby unconsciously pressed herself closer to her lover.

Weiss let out a soft sigh, content to let her body cool down without intervention. Sex, she had discovered, was something she could get at almost any time. A night of dancing and flirting, the pleasure of having your lover drift into obliviousness around you…. that was something rarer, something worth wishing for. With a twitch of her fingers she summoned a black holding glyph and plastered it to their wall, barring entry to the dorm.

For a first date, this had gone well enough.


	5. Blake - Damsel in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake Belladonna is kidnapped by mysterious assailants, and it's up to girlfriend Yang Xiao Long to rescue her.

'WE HAVE THE NOSY REPORTER BLAKE BELLADONNA' read the note, typed in all-caps and slipped in an envelope beneath Yang's pillow some time in the afternoon. 'IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, COME TO THE BEACON TRAINING ROOM AT 2300 HOURS. COME ALONE.'

"Oh, Blakey," groaned Yang, the melodrama practically dripping from the page. She had idly wondered where her girlfriend had been all afternoon. Her usual hiding places - the library, an empty classroom, a particularly branchy tree in the middle of the Academy grounds… nothing. For a brief, terrifying moment she considered the possibility that Blake actually _had_ been kidnapped, then berated herself. All week she'd caught snippets of Blake's brainstorm, the way she hurriedly turned a page in her notebook or closed a tab on her scroll as Yang passed by. It was cute, in a coy kinda way, how a woman who projected an image of steely resolve kept secrets like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Being Blake's girlfriend had entitled Yang to access to a select few of those secrets, and even then she had to know when not to push. Blake opened up like one of those exotic Vacuoan flowers that bloomed once every three hundred years, and you wouldn't get anything by trying to pry open its petals. But she knew of the way Blake used fiction to escape, how she dove into the most fantastical and otherworldly stories she could find when Remnant was weighing down on her. Some of those stories were old classics by centuries-dead authors, the kind of books Yang had half-assed reports on through the entirety of her schooling on Patch. Some were half-baked science fiction stories with blue-skinned alien slave girls or time-traveling Casanovas. Worst of all was the fanfiction, for people who thought even _Ninjas of Love_ wasn't graphic enough and couldn't sleep at night if they knew of two characters who hadn't banged in one alternate universe or another. The half-dozen drafts she'd spotted cluttering up Blake's scroll would make excellent teasing material one day….

Yang didn't know it yet, but Blake had agonized over what kind of fantasy to flesh out. Part of her felt she should go for something safe and mundane, so as not to scare off her girlfriend of only-a-few-months. Another part felt she should take the excuse to make herself as irresistible to Yang as possible, to come up with some excuse to play a neko maid who lusted over her Mistress, but that risked being both transparent in its intentions and disingenuous to the purpose of the exercise. So the part of her brain that thought _'fuck it, let's see what she can handle,'_ won out in the end.

Yang had changed into her Huntress attire before setting off a few minutes before eleven, having already taken the opportunity to swing by the armory and don Ember Celica. She had no intention of being caught helpless in whatever bizarre scenario Blake had imagined. As with their previous escapade to the classroom Blake had reserved Beacon's advanced training room for sparring practice, and Yang's habit of singeing the eyebrows of people near her during exercises worked to their advantage.

The training room, being one of the few places on the grounds where Huntsmen could fully explore the elemental forces they commanded, was in a secluded corner of the castle, almost literally tacked-on to the pre-War era building. It could conjure up any number of scenarios and tests to practice on, and was sturdy enough that a stray shot or errant fireball wasn't liable to punch through a wall and maim some innocent passerby.

She swiped her student ID card, and the reinforced door's locks disengaged with a mechanical whirr. Only pale strips of emergency lighting were visible in the otherwise pitch-black chamber once the door sealed behind her, though Yang had sworn she'd made out humanoid forms.

"Hello?!" she called out into the black, cocking her gauntlets. "Anyone there?"

As if on cue, a lone spotlight cast a cone of light in the middle of the room, and Yang let out a _bla-yea_ yelp of surprise. Not a real word, but so what. Blake was wearing only her scantiest, most irresistible, most bellabooty-displaying lingerie, pale-white skin glistening in the harsh light. Of course, what was probably more interesting was the fact that she appeared to be tied to a pole, bound hand and foot, thick strips of black-and-yellow caution tape plastered over her mouth in a stifling gag. Around her neck was a black leather collar with what looked like a small cylinder clipped onto it, only when LCD lights arranged themselves in the shape of 0500, then 0459, did Yang realize just what Blake had roped her into.

"As you can see, we have your partner," a computerized voice called out over the room's speakers. "But it was all a trap to lure you here, and you walked right into it. Our vengeance will be swift and complete!"

"Err, what?" was all Yang managed to get out before the room's lighting was cranked up and she found herself surrounded by four Atlesian Knight robots. They weren't the real kind used for security or war, but extra-padded training models they used for practice on a regular occasion. Not the most intelligent enemies in Remnant, but they could display some rudimentary tactical awareness and take a few blows before going down.

"Destroy her!" The disembodied computer voice ordered, and the four robots converged on her as one. They were armed only with melee weapons - batons and blunted swords Huntress Auras could easily handle - and Yang almost snorted at Blake as she closed the distance to her first attacker. Yang feinted a low kick, which the Knight diligently moved to block, opening up its guard to allow a one-two jab. Its servomotors groaned as it tried to re-balance itself, but Yang pressed her advantage with practiced ease, landing a flurry of blows on the robot's metal carapace until a sensor registered that the machine had taken enough damage to be counted as 'destroyed'. Yang spun round to face the remaining robots, which were repositioning themselves to strike from three directions.

Yang spared a glance at the 'captive' Blake, who was looking on with evident approval. Blake liked watching her fight. Like, _really_ liked watching her fight. Strip-teases and bikini car-washes had nothing on watching her blonde put some opponent through the paces.

The brawler dashed for the rightmost robot, landing an open-palmed strike on its center of gravity to send it reeling backwards, giving her enough time to spin and land several quick blows on the center robot without being flanked. Neither robot was sufficiently damaged to count as disabled, though, and Yang slid back with a boxer's footwork as the robot's repositioned themselves. While the machines were _smart_ , they weren't really _clever_ , and would never really adapt their fighting style no matter what Yang did. She could repeat the same attack pattern again - off-balancing one so she could focus on another - forever without the robots figuring out what she was doing.

"Do not forget about the timer on the bomb," the computer voice called out, echoing in the chamber, as if it had just read Yang's mind. She idly wondered if Blake had somehow programmed the room to speak in response to certain triggers or if it was just a prerecorded tape and she really was that predictable. The latter thought depressed her. "If you don't figure out a way to remove it before the timer reaches zero, she dies!"

Another sideways glance confirmed that the timer had ticked down to 0344, and the seconds seemed to be passing faster than Yang had ever remembered them going. She let out a curse as she moved to a more aggressive strategy, leaping at the already-damaged centermost robot in an aerial strike and breaking its guard with sheer brute force. It still wasn't disabled, so she ignored the other two robots and landed blow after punishing blow on the machine, until it finally gave up the ghost. Eyes alit in fiery rage, Yang lost not an iota of speed as she whirred about in a powerful roundhouse kick, her mane of hair arcing like a golden crescent through the air before her foot slammed into a metallic head. The remaining robot paused, its algorithmic mind desperately searching for a viable plan of attack, swinging its baton embarrassingly wide before Yang's punch blew it across the room.

Yang glanced back at the bomb Blake was collared to, which had just ticked down to 0258. Her body glistened with sweat, a look and smell that Blake found utterly irresistible. Her breathing was heavy but she was far from exhausted, victory in single combat putting a spring in her step.

"Look at that, didn't even have to fire my gauntlets," said Yang with a grin and a wink, sauntering over to her bound-and-gagged partner. "Piece of cake, kitty cat." She planted a kiss on the strip of tape over Blake's lips, hands sliding down to the bellabooty. The taste of tape did little for her, though feeling only the contours of Blake's lips was a unique enjoyment.

Blake's eyes went wide in (mock) horror, and she tried calling out to Yang through her gag, her words plastered into incoherence in a way Yang probably shouldn't have found adorable. Her fingers peeled under the edge of the strip of tape over Blake's mouth, which she ripped off in a flash of pain.

"Ow, _fuck,_ Yang," cursed Blake, a strip of reddened skin across her face attesting to her pain. She then shook her head, as if remembering her line. "Look out, behind you!"

Undetected by Yang, four more training robots had entered the arena, these ones armed with rifles that fired rubber bullets. Like the faux melee weapons, the bullets wouldn't seriously injure any Huntress with a half-decent Aura, but they still stung like a bitch.

"Minions: I am changing your orders," called out Blake's synthesized pre-recording. "Your new priority is to kill Blake Belladonna!"

The robots raised their rifles in unison, fanning out as they began firing on Blake, still bound hand and foot to a sturdy pole. Yang cursed and spun around in a whirlwind of motion, shielding Blake from the first volley by positioning herself bodily between their assailants. The rubber bullets ricocheted off her Aura's field, though the sting was enough to light a fire in her eyes.

At least they were slow, firing at most once every few seconds. Ember Celica flared to life with a roar, firing a volley of shells in every direction as Yang forced the robots to flinch. They were positioned just on the edge of the gauntlets' effective range, diminishing the impact of each hit.

Yang groaned in frustration, realizing she couldn't just dash out and pound on one of the Knights without leaving the remainder free to fire on her partner. While Blake could easily have deflected the bullets, such behavior was hardly befitting a damsel-in-distress, was it?

So the brawler remained rooted in place, forced to engage in long-range combat. She fell into a pattern quickly, spreading out her shots between the robots so none had a time to properly position its rifle. In theory, anyways. Even alternating her blasts between enemies, they managed to get off a shot every few seconds, which she was forced to absorb. Between adrenaline and Aura she barely noticed the pings, but it was still grating on her.

Blake, of course, could not have been happier. Even if she was only pretending to be helpless, the idea of her girlfriend standing over and protecting her was a beautiful one. After so many years of living a life of detachment and alienation, to witness someone being so possessive and protective was heart-warming. Yang, she knew, loved her, would fight for her, sweat for her, bleed for her. The fiery passion the blonde carried for those she held dear was a wonder to behold.

That, and seeing her sweaty, muscled girlfriend pushed to her limits was _fucking sexy_. The way her thighs tensed as she slipped into a fighting stance, the hypnotic way her shoulders rolled as she loosed each shot, how her hair flowed in a fight like a force of nature… If her hands hadn't been bound behind her back, they'd have been somewhere much less appropriate by now…

Two of the robots had been downed but two more remained, and they weaved left and right in an arc opposite Yang, making them harder to hit with her already-imprecise shotguns. An electronic chirp squawked from the collar around Blake's neck.

"One minute, Yang! Hurry up!" she called out, in what she hoped was an annoying voice. Yang hated backseat fighting with a passion, almost as much as she hated the 'VIP Escort' drills Professor Goodwitch had introduced to their training regimens.

Yang let out an inarticulate growl and changed strategies, turning both barrels of her gauntlets to pound on a single robot. Four shots in short succession caused it to stumble to the ground, off-balanced but not destroyed, though she'd exposed herself to several stinging shots from its partner. Using her gauntlets for a boost she closed the distance between it and her in a fraction of a second, landing a shotgun-enhanced uppercut that caused it to go sailing into the other robot, which was preparing to line up another shot on Blake. The two collapsed to the ground in a tangle of whirring mechanical limbs, but Yang had not sympathy for her enmeshed foes, pummeling them into the ground until their microchips were practically soldered together.

She spun round to Blake, eyes widening when she saw the timer on the 'bomb' had been drained to 0019. She sprinted to her partner in a mad dash, her brain too addled by adrenaline to remember that Blake wasn't in any real danger.

"How does this come off?" Yang practically yelled, her blood still pounding in her ears.

"It clasps on the back, but it's locked," said Blake, in a damsel's wail. "Do any of the robots have the key on them?"

The timer, though, had dropped down to 0009, and Yang had no time to loot the bodies of her enemies. With an Aura-enhanced _yank_ she snapped the cheap metal chain linking the bomb to Blake's collar, blindly hurtling it to the far side of the room. She shielded Blake with her body, powerful arms wrapped around her, her breath held as she waited for an explosion she should've know would never come.

_Powwwsshshw_

The small speakerbox that had played the role of the bomb made the best explosion noise its eight bits could produce. Which sounded horribly cheesy, like the death wail of a twenty-year old computer, and Blake let out a snort of laughter at the climax of her scenario.

"My… my hero," said Blake, her golden eyes glistening as she beamed into Yang's, watching as her pulse gradually slowed and the red in her eyes faded back to purple.

"Let's… get you out of there," said Yang between panted breaths, as her brain grudgingly returned to reality. Blake had apparently used plastic zipties to bind her hands and feet to the pole, which Yang tore through with ease, freeing Blake from her self-imposed bondage. With a heavy sigh the blonde slumped to the ground, desperate for a breather before whatever else Blake had planned.

The Faunus, however, gave her scarcely a moment's rest, sliding down beside her. One hand, with impossible delicacy, took hold of Yang's arm, examining it as if it were the Schnee family china. "You're hurt," Blake said, still speaking in the saccharine tone of a hapless princess, her finger deliberately tracing a few spots of discoloration on Yang's bicep. Her Aura was strong, but the impacts had still reverberated through her, purple circles and tiny welts blossoming where she'd taken the worst hits.

Yang said nothing, suddenly spellbound by the sight (well, more the _touch_ ) of Blake sliding up the sleeve of her vest, fingers slipping beneath the cloth. "There are more wounds here," said Blake, brushing over a nearly-imperceptible mark. She kept sliding, and somehow Yang realized Blake was now straddling her. Wordlessly, Blake undid her vest and Yang half-shrugged out of it, allowing her girlfriend to make a show out of inspecting her superficial wounds. It was, she had to admit, pretty fucking sexy. Blake's hands moved like a masseuse, applying just the right amount of pressure to every one of her exhausted muscles, brushing over hypersensitive skin with her cool hands. In what felt like the blink of an eye Yang's yellow top had also been discarded, and by the time Blake was removing her shorts in the search for upper-thigh injuries Yang's heavy breathing had nothing to do with exhaustion.

Her breath hitched, eliciting a curious look from Blake. "I'm not hurt there, it's just… a sensitive spot," said Yang, as Blake's hands reached the absolute top of her thigh. She shivered slightly, and Blake knew the AC wasn't to blame.

"Oh really?" asked Blake, with more coyness than her innocent-damsel persona could have reasonably expressed. "Does it feel… nice?"

"Kinda…yeah," breathed Yang, as Blake's hands moved inward. She still hadn't reached third base, but she was obviously eyeing it. Only lacy panties stood between Blake and her target, but if Blake had shanghaied her girlfriend into role-playing the hero then Yang was damn well going to make Blake work for it.

Yang struggled to sit upright, schooching a half-foot backwards, to Blake's surprised and puzzlement.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're safe and sound," said Yang, her tone a mockery of heroic bravado. "Now if you'll excuse me, Ms. Belladonna, there's still plenty of danger afoot."

"Wait!" cried out Blake, as Yang pulled herself to her feet, scrambling after her. She clung to Yang's bicep like a lifer preserver, flustered that Let's-Skip-The-Foreplay-Yang was somehow resisting her allure. Next thing you'd know Weiss would give to the homeless and Jaune would get laid. "How can I possibly thank you for saving my life?" For emphasis she slid one leg along Yang's, hoping the brush of thigh on thigh would be enough to return her to her senses.

"No need, little lady," said Yang with a grin, doing her best not to burst out into laughter as Blake did everything short of pull her boobs out to lure her in. Hands moved from biceps to sides to back. "Your tears of gratitude are enough for me." Blake tried to catch a few strands of Yang's hair near her ear, hoping to brush the erogenous zone behind it, but Yang took a hasty step back. "No, not the hair, never the hair."

"But there must be some way I can show my appreciation," pleaded Blake, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's neck and gyrating her hips. And with hips like hers, pressed against Yang, it was impossible not to notice.

Yang wanted, wanted _so damn hard_ to continue teasing Blake, to return in kind her ability to manipulate and excite and frustrate, but _Dust-dammit_ the way Blake was latched onto her was sexy, the promise of rewards like an earthly paradise.

Before Yang could think of some way to surrender in a dignified fashion, Blake had spotted her opening and slammed her lips into Yang. Her lover still smelt of sweat but she loved her all the more for it, biting Yang's lip possessively while the blonde's hands returned to their familiar place above her ass. The opening widened into a complete collapse of Yang's defenses as Blake dragged them to the ground in a mess of limbs, legs intertwining and hands hurrying to remove the last articles of clothing. Yang ended up on her back, Blake atop her, the blonde peering into that predatory gaze and victories grin once more.

"You deserve to be properly rewarded for rescuing me," said Blake, sliding back so her head hovered between Yang's thighs. "This is the least I can do to repay you for all the suffering I caused you."

Yang almost snorted, thinking back to their almost indifferent reactions when one partner came to save the other in their Grimm-cleaning expeditions. The first few times Yang had deflected a blow Blake hadn't seem coming, or the Faunus had tackled her out of the way of a monstrous appendage, it had been exciting, stimulating, something to be joked about for months. Do the same thing twenty, thirty, fifty times, and the novelty wears off. Their reactions were pretty nonchalant at this point. Of course, this wasn't Blake Belladonna, or not the Blake Belladonna she spent her days with. This was some persona her girlfriend had dreamt up during a particularly slow lecture, a hapless (but intrepid) reporter who always needed to be saved from peril. Someone who needed to be protected, and needed to take care of her protector in turn.

Whatever harebrained psychoanalysis was going through Yang's mind was derailed immediately as Blake's tongue licked at her outer folds. Feline jokes notwithstanding, Blake could work wonders with her tongue. She licked Yang eagerly, lapping up her aroma, a hand resting on either muscled thigh to keep them tantalizingly spread. Yang was tensing within minutes, her back arching and fists clenching as Blake brought her closer to the edge. Fiery sparks crackled in the air above her as she orgasmed on Blake's face, exhausting her completely for the second time that night.

Time had no real meaning to Yang's post-coital brain, but some indeterminate number of minutes later she felt Blake crawl atop her prone form, the leather collar still fastened to her neck accentuating the feline image of her pose.

"Do you feel," asked Blake, plating a sensuous kiss on Yang's collarbone, "that you've been properly," _kiss_ , "rewarded?"

" _Mm,_ definitely," groaned Yang, becoming gradually aware of the cold floor beneath her for the first time in ages. She played with one of Blake's breasts absent-mindedly, watching the way black tresses of hair spilled over her girlfriend's back. "But I think I can do something for you too."

"That's… that's not necessary," said Blake, belatedly remembering that her character's sexual sensibilities were supposed to be a few decades' anachronistic. Yang, of course, let her hand drift south, feeling the wetness of her girlfriend's pussy and spotting the way her faunus ears perked up in excitement.

"Yeah, it's not _necessary_ ," replied Yang, once her fingers had started stroking up and down Blake's pussy. Blake could maintain her composure slightly longer than Yang, but need and desire were splashed across her face. With her free hand she slipped a finger through the D-ring fastened to Blake's collar, her index finger tugging Blake to kissing distance. "But you're _mine_ now, aren't you? And you don't mind if I have some fun with my things, do you?"

" _Grrrh_ … No," moaned Blake, as Yang ramped up the pace and pressure. She hadn't exactly needed a lot of warm-up to begin with. Between Yang's gentle tugs and the all-encompassing warmth growing within her Blake barely noticed her arms giving out, collapsing atop Yang.

It was a bit of an awkward angle; Yang had to spread her knees wide to create a gap to slip her hand in, but she knew how much Blake loved resting atop her partner. She lifted Blake with each deep breath, one hand transitioning from stroking to penetrating while the other played with her faunus ears. Yang slipped a finger in and used two knuckles to stimulate her clit, pushing up with her own hips as she did so. Blake's moans were hedonistic pleasure given voice, grunts of pleasure escaping her as Yang pushed deeper with her fingers, her free hand running down her girlfriend's spine before grabbing her ass. Gravity was pushing Blake's face into her lover's chest, eyelevel with generous breasts, tears of ecstasy slowly pooling.

Yang slid two fingers in just as she gave Blake a small bounce with her hips, letting the girl practically sink down onto her as she thumbed her clit. The final wave of ecstasy caught both of them by surprise, Blake biting into Yang's collarbone as her legs twitched with pleasure. Yang was hyper-aware of Blake breathing on her neck, ragged breaths that gradually slowed and softened till they were airy tickles.

"So was sex with a superhero everything you dreamed it would be?" prodded Yang, as Blake adjusted herself to a more comfortable position but did little to remove herself from atop her girlfriend.

"Everything and more," agreed Blake, her eyes still shut. "Thank you so much, Yang," Blake continued, and there was none of the faux damsel in her voice. "It… means a lot to me. Having someone to trust."

"Don’t mention it, kitty-cat," Yang replied, and Blake was warmed by the sincerity of the words, purring softly in approval. As Blake nuzzled into her chest she found herself staring at the shock-absorbent webbing that blanketed the training room's ceiling. "But I gotta say, that story of yours didn't make a lot of sense. So someone kidnapped you, to lure in me, but then there was a bomb and the robots were focused on killing you again. Kinda convoluted, right? I mean all it takes is a note to lure me in, so why not kill you at the beginning and just-"

"Yang, dear?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Don't over-think my scenarios."

"Can do!" They lay in silence for several moments, Yang grinning softly at Blake's annoyance at the B-grade fanfiction quality of her fantasy.

"So, what now?" asked Yang, as she felt the last of her sweat drying on her.

"Now?" asked Blake, not bothering to move. Yang could feel her every word. "Computer: Increase ambient room temperature to 70. And bring us an emergency blanket."

"Acknowledged, Administrator," a bland computerized voice responded. Within a minute one of the training robots had brought them a large gray blanket, the kind so spacious you could drape it across four Huntresses if need be. With just the two of them there was more than enough material to practically cocoon themselves in, even if doing so necessitated Blake begrudgingly detaching from her source of love (and heat), if only for a few seconds.

They lay there, bundled in the blanket, body pressed and held together. Soft words and softer kisses were exchanged as they drifted towards sleep, the warmth of their bodies and loves permeating one another. For all her professed cynicism Blake was a hapless romantic, and as blonde and black hair intertwined she let out a wordless prayer of thanks to the serendipitous twists of fate that had brought her into Yang's arms. She watched lilac eyes drift shut for the last time of the night, and felt the ebb and flow of each slow, deep breath. She tilted her head to the ceiling once more, speaking just loud enough for the training room's microphones to pick up.

"Computer: All lights off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Yes, some of the dialogue in this chapter was stolen from people infinitely funnier than I am.
> 
> I can't say I'm 100% happy with how this work turned out, maybe a little too wordy and not sexy enough. A tad formulaic at times. One day I'll learn how to write touching and erotic like DinasEmrys or CourierNinetyTwo, but it is not this day. Still, any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Remain curious as to what other scenes you could see the RWBY girls acting out.


End file.
